


Taking it Personally

by riverlight



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-22
Updated: 2006-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-26 15:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/284736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riverlight/pseuds/riverlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ah," Fraser says again, but he's getting it, of course he's getting it, all the stuff Ray's trying not to say—"Ray," he says, voice urgent, "Ray, are you saying you—"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking it Personally

"Ray," Fraser's saying, worriedly, "Ray, Ray!" but Ray's not stopping, he's outta there, he's _done._ Fucking assholes, like he's gonna stick around and listen to any more of their shit—

"Ray!" Fraser's pushing through the door behind him. _Bang—_ Ray kicks at the stall doors— _bang._ Fucking assholes. "Ray, they didn't mean anything by it," Fraser's saying, voice tense and unhappy, and Ray whirls to face him.

"The fuck they didn't," he snarls. "I been a cop fifteen years, Fraser, I know cops. They meant it, all right?" Fuck. He wants to hit something, some _body,_ jesus—He slams his fist into the wall. Assholes. Again. _Bang._ He's getting blood on the tile.

"Ray, stop, you might break something," Fraser says helplessly.

"Shut up, Fraser." Ray's yelling, echoing and loud in the tiny space, but God, he doesn't care; all he wanted to _do_ in there was yell, get up in their faces. He could have made them shut up, and he would have, too, if Fraser hadn't gotten in his way.

"Ray." Fraser's grabbing his wrist, holding him still. "Ray. Why are you angry?" He's looking at Ray intently.

Jesus. Ray drops his eyes. "Fraser—" He's gotten blood on the cuff of Fraser's uniform. "Don't worry about it, all right? It's fine." _Drop it, drop it,_ he thinks at Fraser, but Fraser's not getting it, just staring at him with his eyes all wide and worried. God, he really doesn't want to talk about this.

Fraser's crowding him, now, all up in his personal space, all intense focused concern. "It's not fine, Ray," he says, like if he just says it, Ray will suddenly stop being angry and tell him what's wrong.

"Jesus, Fraser, just _leave_ it, okay?" But Fraser's watching him, mouth set stubbornly, and of course he's not going to leave it. God, he doesn't have the energy for this.

"I—" Fraser starts, looking determined, but then he clamps his mouth shut and snatches at a handful of paper towels and scrubs at the cuts on Ray's knuckles. "Did it have to do with what they were saying about Mr. Papandopoulos?" he asks, finally.

Ray sighs. "They got no right to say things like that, Fraser. What does it matter to them that he's shacking up with another guy? It's his life." Maybe he can say that much, maybe Fraser won't push it—

"Ah," Fraser says, one of those exasperating noises that mean nothing at all, and falls silent. He's still holding Ray's wounded hand between both of his. "I agree that he's entitled to live his life as he chooses," he says finally, ignoring Ray's muttered _damn right,_ "—and that Detectives Miller and D'Agostino were out of line, but aren't you perhaps taking all of this a trifle personally?" He gestures at the bloody smears on the wall.

Of course Fraser's pushing it. Ray snatches his hand away. "For chrissakes, they can't just go around _saying_ shit like that," he says. "That word is _bigotry,_ Fraser, that is the sort of word that gets kids like that beaten up, or tied up, or _shot—"_ Jesus, please God, let his voice not be trembling.

"Ah," Fraser says again, but he's getting it, of course he's getting it, all the stuff Ray's trying not to say—"Ray," he says, voice urgent, "Ray, are you saying you—"

Lord, Ray is so fucking tired of this. "Yeah, Frase," he says. "Yeah." And apparently it's too much to hope for that Fraser was talking about something else, 'cause he's stepping backwards, and his face just shuts down as Ray watches, shuttering into that blank Mountie mask he wears. "Oh, God," Ray says, and drops his face into his hands.

But instantly Fraser's hands are on his wrists, tugging his hands down. "Ray," he's saying, "Ray, Ray, it's fine, Ray, it's _fine,"_ and okay, maybe Fraser's okay with this after all, 'cause Fraser's all in his space again, crowding him against the wall.

"Fraser?" he asks, and his voice is hesitant, but it doesn't matter, because Fraser's looking down at him and biting his lip, and Christ, he's just _wide open,_ his heart's in his eyes, right there for Ray to read.

"Ray," he says, "Ray, I—" and he shivers, just a little bit. "Ray, I would like very much to kiss you."

Which, _God,_ Ray never expected this, never in a million years would he have thought Fraser would want— "Yeah," he manages, "yeah, Frase, please—" and then Fraser's eyes are fluttering shut and he's leaning in to brace one hand on the wall by Ray's head and pressing his lips to Ray's, soft and sweet and yearning. Ray parts his lips, lets him in, and Fraser presses his whole body against him and lets his tongue slide against Ray's teeth.

"Fraser," he manages after a moment, and Fraser stops and rests his forehead against Ray's, dropping little kisses against Ray's lips and cheeks and chin.

"Yes, Ray?" Fraser says, and he sounds so _happy,_ like this is something he wants, like there's nothing he'd rather be doing than pressing Ray up against the wall in the bathroom of a police station and kissing him till he can barely breathe. _God._

"We can't do this here, Fraser," Ray says, and Fraser stiffens, like he's only just realized what they're doing.

"No, of course, you're right," he says instantly, stepping backwards, and Ray has to swallow—he's looking at Ray with such _longing,_ like this is something he's dreamed about.

"Come home with me tonight," Ray says, before he can think twice, and Fraser's smile is so sudden and brilliant that Ray has to lean in and kiss him again. "God, Fraser."

And then Welsh is hollering _"Vecchio!"_ in the hallway, and Ray's tingling with the sudden jolt of adrenaline. God, he just kissed _Fraser,_ he just kissed Fraser in the bathroom of the _station house._

Just like that Fraser's got his Mountie face on again, shoulders straight, standing a proper two feet away from Ray. They stand there dumbly for a few seconds, staring at each other. Christ, what on earth is he supposed to say?

Then Fraser's picking up his hand and rubbing a thumb gently over Ray's wounded knuckles. "Good lord, Ray, I can't take you anywhere, can I?" he says, affectionately.

Ray laughs. "Nope, Frase, not a chance," he says, and he can't help himself, he's grinning at Fraser like an idiot. "Come on, five bucks says Frannie's got a first aid kit," he says.

Fraser's grinning back. "Done," he replies, holding the door for Ray, and they walk out of the bathroom together.

**Author's Note:**

> For justbreathe80, because she asked for F/K kisses, and who am I not to oblige? Many thanks to passion4life, for being a sounding-board while I wrote, and to lozenger8, for the quick-yet-thorough beta. Hugs for you both! And as always, these characters aren't mine, and I'm making no profit, here...


End file.
